


Mine Now

by Woon



Series: A collection of Jerome Valeska stories [4]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Not A Happy Ending, This is not a romance, Unwanted Advances, Unwanted Kisses, implied home invasion, referenced death/murder of Dwight Pollard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 17:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woon/pseuds/Woon
Summary: The reader was engaged to the now dead Dwight and Jerome claims her as his own.





	Mine Now

**Author's Note:**

> Put it as explicit because Jerome is rather rapey because that is how I end up writing Jerome half the time. There isn't any because I won't write it for personal reasons. If I missed anything in tags please let me know so I can fix my tags and accept my apologies for missing a tag, in advance.

      Dwight wouldn’t be coming home tonight. He wouldn’t be coming home ever again. You sat there crying when Gotham was plunged into darkness. You glanced at the dinner table still set up from earlier. He never showed for dinner, he had called with apologies, everything was moving fast. But you understood right? You didn’t understand his obsession with Jerome Valeska. You wanted to understand, desperately.

    You gave him support, you used your money to help him in his endeavors, he’d refused at first but the kind of equipment he needed required money. So Dwight accepted your financial aid, but he kept his job those paychecks were saved up and he bought you the ring on your finger. You’d said yes, despite your reservations, you loved him.

    The food had been put away, the candles were blown out. You had ended up drinking half the wine bottle. You wanted to throw the bottle across the room, you wanted to scream and break things. Instead, you shut off the kitchen light, you had sent home your housekeeper, now you wished you hadn’t. You needed another human presence in your home.

     Walking past your dresser you stopped and picked up your favorite picture of the two of you, before all this mess with the Jerome cult. He looks so happy in this picture, but he had wanted something more. Dwight had wanted to share it with you, but you had hesitated like always.

      You fell onto the bed and buried your head into the pillow you let out a long wail, tears dampening your pillow. You didn’t even bother with crawling under the blankets, but sleep came eventually troubled dreams.

      You didn’t hear the window breaking downstairs. The quiet footsteps creeping up the stairs, the squeak of the floorboards close to the end of the bed. Unaware of the man watching your sleeping form. Standing there contemplating before finally slipping out of his shoes quietly, He slowly stripped down his shorts.  

      Hands gliding over your thigh, gently tugging your nightgown up to expose your lower body. Your subconscious nagging, telling you to wake up. A hand resting on your now exposed hip, a gentle kiss on the back of your neck. “Dwight?” The hope in your soft whisper, he doesn’t respond. The hand leaves your hip, making it’s way to your breasts. Something feels off, your brain is trying to tell you something, even as the soft whimpers leave your throat. Those fingers gently tugging at your nipples.

       A crash downstairs and you try to sit up, the hand now clamped over your mouth. “Shhh…” His mouth near your ear, “You’re safe with me, babydoll.” The voice from the man on television, the man your fiance worshipped, the man who killed your love. “Dwight had good taste. Such soft skin.” He pulled you into him, grinding his hardness into your backside. “I’m going to remove my hand, dollface. No yelling. We don’t want to attract unwanted company, (y/n).”

      Once his hand was gone, “You’re him. Jerome.”

      “Yes.” He nuzzled into your neck. “You smell great.”

      “You killed him.” The accusation in your voice. You tried to pull away from Jerome.

       “No, I gave him what he wanted. I set him free.” Jerome held you firmly against his body. “He has a place in history now.”

       “I want him back.” You sob softly. Kisses along your neck, “Please go away.” More crashes downstairs.

 

      “Oh, I can’t do that, babydoll. I promised Dwight I’d take good care of you, keep you safe.” His hand lightly touching your legs, tugging at the waistband of your panties as his hand came back to rest on your hip. “You belong to me now, (y/n).”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing feel free to leave a comment. If you hated it, feel free to leave a comment with constructive criticism. Feedback helps me improve.


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